Fade To Black
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: It's no secret that Dean loves Metallica, but even though some of their songs are his favorites, there are others that he just can't bring himself to listen to. Series of Dean-centric mini-drabbles each inspired by a Metallica song.
1. That Was Just Your Life

_**Fade To Black  
**_

**A/N: Dean's a Metallica fan, and so am I, so it was inevitable I'd end up writing something like this sooner or later. There's quite a lot of Metallica songs I think Dean could relate to or would be relevant to him, which may be why he likes them, and there are others I think he probably dislikes for the exact same reasons. I wanted to explore that a bit, so I decided to start this series of mini-drabbles where I'll listen to a Metallica song and write about an aspect of Dean's life I think fits with it. I won't be writing up the lyrics, but if you listen to the song and the lyrics before reading, you may get more out of this. Opening with the opening track from _Death Magnetic, _although there's some bleed through from other similar themed songs on that album.  
**

**Disclaimer: Kripke owns Supernatural and all the songs are the property of Metallica.**

_**That Was Just Your Life**_

How many times was it now, that he'd come back from the dead? And every time it never got any easier. The world was still the same. He'd die, resurrect, and come back to find things just as crappy and messed up as they had been before. Then he'd go back to the daily grind of fighting demons and monsters, trying to do some good and make a scrap of difference, even though there was no end in sight.

This was what his life was: an endless battle until it was over, and even then, it had always just ended up starting once again shortly after. He was beginning to grow tired of it, wondering if he'd ever find any kind of peace, because there didn't seem to be any. Like in Hell, time up here seem to stretch on forever when life felt like an endless torment. It was almost a mockery, that even when he'd been dragged back from the Pit, he found his only reprieve was to be screwed over by Heaven. And then there was even worse to follow. The misery and pain were unrelenting: defeat one enemy only to find another, even worse one waiting behind it; overcome one challenge only to find himself being hurt by something else he hadn't expected. This was the way it was for him, year after year, life after life.

The day was getting long now, and he was ready for it to be over.


	2. The Judas Kiss

_**The Judas Kiss**_

_I'm your new God._

Those are the words that haunt him. It was in the moment he'd heard them coming calmly out of Cas's lips, yet strangely it wasn't Cas speaking them, that he'd realised his friend was gone. The shred of hope that he'd been clinging onto, that they could somehow still work this out, was obliterated with that single, chilling sentence. Dean can barely stand to think of it, as he remembers all that happened. Castiel, the angel who was once his friend, but then betrayed him. The angel who went behind his back to ally himself with Crowley, but then who, like Judas, had to pay the price.

The image still lingers in Dean's mind, of a trenchcoated figure wandering forlornly into that reservoir and then slowly sinking beneath its surface, vanishing to him forever. Maybe Cas brought about his own destruction, maybe he even deserved it after everything he'd done, but Dean still can't shake the sense of loss. There's anger too, at how Cas had betrayed and hurt him so deeply, but more than anything there's just an emptiness. It feels like all the rage is just a cyclone whirling around an empty space where there's nothing left to be angry at anymore, and no matter what happens, it won't ever be filled.

Alcohol provides some small comfort, as he let's its numbness wash over him like the black water did over the angel, but he knows that no matter how many bottles he downs or how many Leviathan heads he hacks off in revenge, he's lost something he can't get back.


	3. Turn The Page

**A/N: This one is inspired by a cover Metallica did of the Bob Seger song, **_**Turn The Page**_**, which I think is actually a perfect song for both of the Winchester brothers**_** .**_

_**Turn The Page**_

One more job finished, and they'd move on. Hit the road again, just him and Sammy driving for hours. It was more than enough time for them to grow agitated and begin to irritate each other, but they were brothers, and they were used to it. Even if being stuck in a car together grew tiresome after a while, being in each other's company was something that felt as right and natural to them as breathing.

They'd both pretend they were okay, even though it always wasn't true. There was never much to do when driving other than to think or talk, but the really important conversations always seemed to be ones that didn't happen until things had already gotten much worse. Instead they kept things casual, tried to joke and have fun on occasion, even though the laughter had grown increasingly hollow over the years. The times they'd spent apart had created a distance between them in more than the physical sense, but that gap was something that time on the road always began to close. They'd seek out jobs across the country, and in doing so they'd eventually find a way back to each other. Sometimes the road was longer, but the destination was always the same.

It was beginning to wear them down, they both knew, just like the hard road on the tread of the Impala's tyres, but as long as they had each other, they'd endure. So they carried on; finding new cases wherever the road may lead them, each new highway another turn of the page.


	4. Mama Said

_**Mama Said**_

For many people his age, memories of early childhood are the ones most likely to have long faded from memory. They're the ones that blur most with the passage of time, dulling over the years as newer ones take their place, while worries and responsibilities replace the simplicity and happiness of younger days. The older the memories are, the more they're distorted through the lens of a child's perception, so that the adult they belong to is never quite sure how accurate the recollection is. But accuracy isn't important. What matters is the comfort such memories can bring in a time when life has worn childhood innocence away.

And when happiness in childhood was so short lived, they're needed all the more.

Dean still remembers her. The warmth of her smile and the safety of being held in her arms, knowing that nothing could ever go wrong when she was around. Whenever she put him to sleep he was never scared of the monsters under the bed, because he knew she'd always be there to chase the nightmares and the demons away. It's more than Sam has, he knows, who's too young to even remember her face from anything but photographs, but sometimes he's glad that Sam being too young to remember Mary means he's too young to remember the night she died as well.

Dean remembers it all too clearly. He remembers the fire savagely burning its way through the house; remembers the smoke and the heat and the fear of it; remembers the terror of hearing his mother's screams, but he didn't see what happened to her before John put Sammy in his arms and told him to run. So he did, carrying his baby brother out of the door without looking back.

It took weeks for the nightmares to stop after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had paid them that fateful visit. Dean would wake crying and screaming out for his mom to come and save him from the bad dreams again; but the dream was real and Mary was gone, burnt to a crisp on the ceiling, and all Dean had was John telling him to be brave because he had to be for Sam. And so Dean learned to stop crying, and to not think of that night except to remind him that they had to get revenge. There wasn't time to grieve for Mary when they had a mission to find Yellow-Eyes.

Even now, with Azazel dead, and with John having joined Mary in the grave, it still isn't quite enough to bring closure. The nightmares still haunt him from time to time, having had plenty more horrors come to accompany them in their torment over the years. The memories of that night have permanently branded themselves on his soul; the first scar that laid the foundations for countless more to come.

He still has the memories of the times that came before that: comforting and deeply treasured, but far too few in number and tainted by everything that came after. Sometimes he still prefers to bury them so that he can bury everything else, because his adult self feels all to keenly the loss of the happy, normal life he'd once had.

He remembers the last words Mary ever spoke to him, loving and sincere, as if she truly believed them; "_Angels are watching over you._"

He wishes now that they could comfort and reassure him like they once did, but there's a cold, lonely gravestone somewhere in Kansas to remind him just how hollow and meaningless those words really are.


	5. Cyanide

_**Cyanide**_

It had been playing on his mind for a while by the time he'd driven off and left Sam behind in Blue Earth. Though he'd never admitted it to anyone, and was ashamed of how weak it must make him in the eyes of Sam and Bobby and Cas, for weeks he'd been considering going to find Michael and just saying yes. And now at last, he'd gone and done it. Just got in the Impala and gone.

He had the radio on and amped up to full volume, blasting angry noise from the Impala's speakers to stop the silence creeping up on him and tempting him to have second thoughts, but it wasn't enough to disturb the strange, almost eerie sense of peace that had settled on him now that he'd finally made up his mind.

There was no more delaying the inevitable. No more fighting an impossible fight, because he's seen where this road will lead, and now he's about to ask an angel to come and end it all. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for him. There was nothing Dean could see that made it worth trying to resist it any longer, and he was ready to take whatever way out was offered. Famine had been right: he was already empty. Living dead inside. Dean was tired, and he wanted his peace at last.

Maybe outright suicide wasn't a card he had on the table, but saying yes to Michael was close enough.


	6. Just A Bullet Away

**A/N: I'm taking a few liberties with this, because the **_**Beyond Magnetic **_**EP wasn't out when this episode aired and the song is actually about suicide, but listening to it I still felt it was right for this moment.**

_**Just A Bullet Away**_

It's been less than an hour since the hardware store was blown to pieces, taking Ellen and Jo with it, and already he's drowning in the guilt. He knows he's to blame, for letting the hellhound get to Jo when really it should have been him; for not finding a way to help her, and now there's nothing he can do to change things. Both of them are gone, but the least he can do is make sure they didn't die in vain.

Dean grips the Colt tight in his hand: the gun that can kill anything, and tonight will kill the Devil himself. His fingers flex about the handle, moonlight shining on the barrel of the midnight revolver. What he's about to do brings with it danger, but even the promise of that has gone dull when he knows there's only two ways for this to end. Either he turns the tables on this Apocalypse, or he dies trying.

Lucifer is standing straight before him now, and Dean raises the gun. The Devil hasn't realised he's there, instead taunting Sam, but Dean has something to say before he pulls the trigger, "Yeah? Well I'd hurt you. So suck it!"

Then bullet smashes through bone and brain, and a body crumples at his feet. Dean looks down at it, daring to believe for a moment that he's succeeded, and that they've won. _Yes, you can suck on that, _he thinks, as he stares at a corpse that once held a fallen angel, _suck on it 'til it's gone dry._

An instant later, however, his moment of victory is shattered. Seems that the legend of the Colt that could kill anything was just one more lie.


	7. The Unforgiven II

_**The Unforgiven II**_

Sometimes Dean still doesn't know if he did the right thing, in letting Lisa and Ben go, or maybe his only mistake was in ever allowing himself to become involved with them in the first place. It hadn't been fair, he knew, for Lisa to have been the one to pick up the pieces after he'd lost Sam, but she had done. She'd supported him through the hardest thing he'd ever had to face, letting go of Sam and trying to carry on with his life, and words couldn't express how grateful he was to her for that. But then Sam had come back, and he'd left again.

Sure, they'd talked about it, and she'd agreed that it was the right thing for him to do, but it still hadn't been fair on her. Where he was involved nothing in her life was fair, and that was something he couldn't forgive himself for. He put her in danger when he was with her and put her through hell when he was gone. Then in the end he'd almost cost both her and Ben their lives.

That was the final straw, when he realised he couldn't keep doing this to her. So he'd asked Castiel to make both her and Ben forget. Maybe if things had been different, and Castiel had never interfered to bring Sam back, he could have moved on and had a life with her, but now he'd never see what might have been. Even though Lisa would have forgiven him for all the trouble he'd brought her, Dean knew that wasn't something he deserved. Letting Cas erase the memory of the pain he'd already caused wasn't the same as undoing it completely, but at least grief over him wasn't something she'd ever have to feel again.


	8. All Nightmare Long

**A/N: I'm going to do the entirety of **_**Death Magnetic **_**at this rate, so I'll try and go for more early Metallica next time since I haven't done much of that yet. This song is actually about hounds that hunt people in nightmares, but I think it works well for hellhounds too.**

_**All Nightmare Long**_

The moment he sees Ruby's eyes turn white, Dean knows it's over. This final scrap of hope, that maybe by killing Lilith they can void his deal and let him evade Hell, is torn away and ripped to pieces, just like he will be in a few short moments. He can hear Sam crying out, pinned to the wall, and he wants to say something to reassure him and promise him it'll be okay, but he can't because the lies won't come out of his mouth when he's so freaking scared. He knows what's about to happen, and he's praying that somehow Sam will escape and survive this, but he knows that Lilith won't let that happen. The deal will all have been for nothing and Sammy will die anyway, just a pawn in a demon's game, and there's nothing Dean can do to save his brother. That thought terrifies him more than the realisation that there's nothing he can do to save himself.

Time seems to have slowed, but he still can't turn or move fast enough to get away. Horrific images twist around him, hallucinations brought on by the proximity of the hellhounds, and he knows death is imminent. They're still barking at the door, baying for his blood and the taste of his flesh between their teeth, and an instant later it comes crashing down. He tries to run, but they're on him too fast and he hits the ground, feeling their hot, sulfur-tainted breath on his face. He still can't see them, but that only amplifies his terror in his final moment without pain. The things that have hunted him down without mercy have now found their prey.

Teeth and claws sink into soft flesh, tearing at skin and brutally ripping tissue and muscle apart. Screams of agony join the chorus of ravenous growls as blood spatters everywhere. Dean's isn't the only voice screaming as the hounds tear into him, but he's in too much pain to hear Sam's cries above the sound of the barking and his own body being torn to shreds. He doesn't know at what point his brain finally shuts down to spare him the agony, but eventually, somehow, all the screaming and the crunching and the gnashing fades to silence, and then he's falling. Falling through an endless blackness, that's blissfully quiet and free from pain.

It's cold at first, pleasantly soothing after the burning agony he just experienced, but as he falls further Dean can feel the heat rising. As it does so he begins to fall even faster, until it begins to scorch him, and then he wants to cry out again just as he suddenly stops, his motion halted and a sharp jolt of agony tearing through his wrists, calves and shoulders. The shock stops him from screaming, but he can feel fear building in his chest as forks of lightning flash around him, illuminating the ropes and hooks by which he's now suspended. The stench of sulfur is overpowering, and it's as though he can almost choke on it, like the fumes from the inferno that's raging below him.

So this must be Hell.

His eyes flicker around, taking in the nightmare he's now trapped in, and as he does so an overpowering, unbearable wave of fear washes over him. In that moment he wishes he could take it back. He doesn't want to be here, wishes he hadn't made the deal, and just wants somebody to come and save him. Please someone save him. _Please Sam…_

But Sammy isn't coming. He knows that. He knows this is forever now, and tears flood his eyes and threaten to spill over as he realises just what he's in for. The pain he'd felt at the claws of the hellhounds was just the beginning, and then the tears finally begin to flow as he wonders what further horrors are to come.


	9. Master of Puppets

**A/N: Here we are as promised, classic Metallica. It's still depressing though, because the majority of Metallica songs are, and this sort of follows on from the last one. I especially recommend listening to the song for this one, because it's the one I found easiest to integrate into the narrative. I honestly am trying to find a vaguely non-dark Metallica song that could apply to Dean for next time, but there don't seem to be any.**

_**Master of Puppets**_

The ropes are his prison. At night they're used to hang him from hooks suspended in the air, never allowing him a moment without some kind of pain scratching and biting into his skin; whereas during the day they're used to bind him and tie him down to the rack as Alastair does his work. Not that Dean can really tell what the difference between night and day is here. His only indication that the torment is over after each session is when Alastair comes to him and makes him the offer: he can come off the rack if he puts other souls on. Dean counts the times he gives the same answer, telling Alastair to go suck it, and after each time he finds himself back on the hooks again, somehow remade and just awaiting the new horrors that will come tomorrow.

Sometimes he's tired enough that exhaustion will overwhelm the pain and he sleeps. Even in Hell he can dream, and he dreams of getting out of here, of being with Sammy again… But then he awakes on the rack and the dreams are smashed as his mind is overwhelmed by nothing but pain, the ritual misery commencing once again. Fear pumps in his veins as the master torturer find new ways to hurt him: blinding and gutting and mutilating in ways too horrific to comprehend. Alastair hears him scream, and only laughs.

Dean tries to resist the temptation to give in, but every time Alastair makes the offer again, he can feel his resolve slowly but surely crumbling away.

By his count it's been over ten thousand days when he finally cracks. He doesn't want to, can't stand the thought of picking up the razor, but can stand the thought of enduring this any longer even less. They take him down off the hooks and hand him the instruments he'll need, but even though he's not strung up anymore, he's still the puppet and Alastair's the master pulling strings. The demon gives orders and Dean follows them, cutting and maiming in blind obedience while Alastair works to construct something new and demonic from the damned soul he's been handed. And each time it's over Dean's left wracked with guilt, crawling before his master in self-disgust, but at the same time needing more.

He can feel his mind and soul being twisted as his humanity is burned away, faster and faster, but he doesn't know how to fight it any longer as he destroys himself by Alastair's command. The life he used to know is long gone, and Hell feels like his natural habitat now. His focus is becoming clearer with each day that drifts past: he must torture and torment the damned things that have already succumbed to death. Dean knows that a lifetime ago he would have been disgusted with himself for even contemplating the things that he now finds himself doing, but it's as if his mind isn't his own anymore. It's occupied entirely by bloodthirst, the demon already in him helping kill whatever humanity remains. He's in Alastair's domain, the demon that rules the torture chambers of Hell and commands the monopoly on pain, and although Dean tried to fight him for all those years, now Alastair rules him too.


End file.
